Anagapesis
by fengbi
Summary: 'There had been a time, Arthur supposed, when he would have done anything and everything for Alfred.' /A rare and dead word, anagapesis is defined as the loss of feelings for someone you used to love. It is the process of falling out of love./


Sitting on the edge of his bed, Arthur looked down at his hands. Between his fingers, he held an old wallet photo. In the photo, a younger version of Arthur grinned begrudgingly at the camera, his cheek squished against the chubby cheek of his then-boyfriend, Alfred F. Jones. Their faces had been so close to the lens that Arthur couldn't see where the picture had been taken. If Arthur's memory served him right, they had taken it during a school fair years ago. But Alfred probably disagreed, as he was prone to do, saying the photo had been taken when Alfred got his first digital camera.

One fact couldn't be disputed, though; the photo had been taken a long time ago, back when Arthur and Alfred were sixteen, still in high school, and deeply in love.

They had been so in love back then. So young, and so naive, thinking they'd be together forever. That they'd be one of those rare high school couples that lasted.

And in a sense, they had. They lasted past the usual length of a high school relationship, they lasted despite going to different universities, they survived four years of long distance, supported each other through grad school and missed opportunities. Supported each other through successes and failures. Arthur and Alfred had even lasted over a decade beyond that, well into their thirties. They had grown up together and knew the other like the back of their hand.

Then they hit that magic number: 37. Thirty seven. Three and seven.

And everything was different.

For 21 years, Arthur would go home and tell Alfred about his day, be it in person or through a text or webcam, and Alfred was always there to cheer Arthur up after a bad day or cheer Arthur on after a good day. Alfred would go home and Arthur was there to give him sound advice after a bad day or celebrate great days with a fancy dinner and even better dessert. Always. They had always been the rock for the other, supporting themselves with their love.

But then they hit 37.

Suddenly, they were no longer children. And they hadn't been children for nearly twenty years but 37 was the year when it suddenly hit them. They were no longer children. No longer young. Forty (forty!) was only three years away now, and suddenly neither was content with the domesticity and docileness that had been their lives.

Alfred began to return to his flirty nature, giving ladies and gentlemen alike his bright smile and held open doors. Never, not once, did he ever truly cheat on Arthur but the once steely bond of love between Alfred and Arthur was corroding. Alfred went out with his coworkers more, when he used to go straight home to Arthur.

For Arthur, he hated being alone in the evenings. Without Alfred there to keep him company, their home was no longer a home. So Arthur went out. And drank. A lot. The third after Arthur came home drunk out of his mind, on a weekday no less, was when the fighting started. Not violent nor vicious fights, but arguments over the smallest things that had been blown out of proportion.

Yet they lasted another three years past that. Hitting forty was an achievement, Arthur supposed. Few of his peers could say they had been with the same person since they were sixteen. Still children, really. Yet, in his heart Arthur knew he and Alfred weren't together anymore. Not at heart. They lived in the same house, under the same roof, but the love wasn't there anymore.

A month after Alfred's fortieth, he stopped Arthur before he could go out for another night out at the bar because they needed to talk. Their first heart to heart talk in three years.

Because Arthur and Alfred had fallen out of love.

Certainly they still loved each other. They had spent well over half their lives so deeply in love with each other, it was near impossible for the loving to dissipate completely so suddenly. But they were no longer in love. Because Arthur no longer got the butterflies in his stomach when Alfred smiled at him and Alfred no longer went out of his way to make Arthur give him one of his gentle smiles full of love and adoration.

And so, their only option was to end their relationship. After all, what good is a relationship devoid of love?

With dry eyes and a resigned smile, Arthur stroked his finger over Alfred's glossy face in the photo one last time before he tightened his grip on the edges of the photo. In a single jerk the photo was ripped, separating Arthur and Alfred. A fond memory to be lost to time, just as their love had been lost.

Arthur stood to leave on the room. On his way out, he dropped the ripped photo in a trash can set by the door.

His missed, both halves of Alfred and Arthur floating to the ground beside the garbage instead.


End file.
